Eternity

The last few months have felt that way. Thinking back to late September early October, I can remember my never ending time spent at the lab working towards submitting for a conference in October. I failed. Then I kept working. I failed to finish my Thesis by December. Then I kept working. I am going to fail submitting to the January conference. Going back to thinking about my summer internship, that feels like a million miles away now. Thinking about last January and the terror I felt at only having a year left feels like a million years ago. I haven’t been in MA that long. It’s going to be about two years in a week or so since I moved here permanently. So why does it feel like I’ve been stuck here almost my whole life? Yet I never feel like I have enough time reach it. Like it’s constantly out of my grasp. No matter how many hours I put in, no matter how “determined” or “willing” or whatever, there are limits. Limits to what a person can do. I hit mine a long long time ago and should consider myself lucky that I went beyond that. But even going beyond that has its limits. A wall that is just absolute failure. I could say that I have the March conference left. But I said the same thing about this January conference. Is there going to be a fallback when I fail the March deadline? What if I still can’t pull it together for my thesis? Can extend another semester. I could have been reading and writing today, but I just didn’t have it in me to try. Asked administration when I might get lab access they told me it might be as late as Monday. My own fault. Should have thought of this sooner. I thought I thought of this sooner but that wasn’t enough I guess. I’ve talked about my bizarre belief that I’m not worth anything if I can’t fulfill my “purpose” as I put it. But why did I choose this to begin with? I kind of just fell into it. I was always good at math and science so I just “naturally” went into this profession. But was I just on autopilot? Did I actually have any real desire to do any of this? Did I just say “well, it goes A B C D E …”? I do have some level of satisfaction from completing anything, but isn’t that just natural though? Wouldn’t anyone be happy to finish something? Was I ever thinking at all when I put one foot in front of the other? As a teenager I landed on the idea that everything was pointless. That none of this mattered. And if none of it mattered, why bother with anything? When I get frustrated now all I think is “None of this even matters. Who cares? It’s all pointless.” I’m not really sure where I was going with this. First I started off with how long these past few months or even year has been. Then I go off on a tangent about how I’m not even sure why I’m doing any of this. I guess what I’m saying is that, like this entry, none of it makes any sense. But it doesn’t really sound like that’s what I’m saying, though.